


cross your heart and hope

by tanyart



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Destiny (Video Game), Alternate Universe - Space, Immortality, Jack/Gabe cameo, M/M, Reincarnation, multiple one shots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-08-24 14:55:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8376421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tanyart/pseuds/tanyart
Summary: [Destiny (the game) AU]  Genji is an Exo, and he hasn't had the privilege of dying yet.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **McGenji Week Day 2: AU**  
>     
> Might be a little hard to follow without some Destiny knowledge but essentially Genji is a war machine whose human memories haven't been erased/reset. It's pretty much like Overwatch but _in space_ , with a weird concept of immortality and reincarnation. Also better fashion and 50% more cloaks for everyone.
> 
> Also fairly important: Genji is a Bladedancer, and McCree is, predictably, a Gunslinger. Ghosts are little companion buddies. Like Siri, but cuter and actually sentient (as far as we know).

Genji always introduces himself without a number. He is Genji-1, only on the official records, but other exos have a tendency to add that numeral suffix to the end of their name, almost like a badge of honor, a testament to how many times they’ve truly lived—or died. Genji doesn’t know what to think of it, doesn’t much care beyond bitter jealousy. Sometimes he wishes he was Genji-3, or Genji-4, any number further from his reawakening. He hates that he remembers everything about his endlessly long life, but he supposes he has to wait until the last of his Light snuffs out like a candle to be able to forget, because death has very little meaning to Guardians, and it takes a lot to genuinely die nowadays. His Ghost doesn’t like to talk about it, and sometimes Genji wonders if his Ghost has regretted choosing him.

McCree is some distance away, surveying the other side of the decaying factory. His own Ghost had found him on Mars, decades ago, mortal human bones withered down by time and sand. McCree had been brought back to life under the blazing sun, a dozen Cabal on his heels, and he had shot them all dead in a golden haze of bullets. His Ghost tells the story like this; McCree had taken Mar’s unforgiving sunlight and shot it back at them, twice as bright, twice as blazing, and McCree never had reason to fear the Darkness again.

It’s poetic and romantic, if a touch embarrassing. McCree’s Ghost is wildly fond of him.

Privately, McCree says he doesn’t remember his past life, or lives. He doesn’t know how long he has lived, but he admits to remembering when Earth had been more than a single city. Flashes of small towns and sprawling green hills, or sunny deserts dotted with greenery. There’s none of that now on Earth, much less in Russia’s cold, snowy mountains.

Genji’s boots crunch over metal bones instead of ice. A dozen Vex corpses litter the ground, shining wet fluids oozing between the floor tiles. He idly wonders if his body will decay similarly, if he will bleed organic red blood or the manufactured product of biotic white liquid.

“Genji,” Ghost says, in the privacy of his helmet, “Are you sure? There are other missions.”

Ghost is reading his body systems. Genji wonders how it can tell. He doesn’t have a heart rate that speeds or a set of lungs that freeze when distressed.

“I might have turned back, if you hadn’t insist on calling McCree,” Genji says, rolling his shoulders back.

“If I hadn’t called McCree,” Ghost says, reproachful, “there would be no telling what you would have done. I like to be have _some_ chances of survival, even if you don’t.”

“I don’t plan on dying,” Genji says, exasperated. It’s an old argument.

“I know,” says Ghost, in a tone that goes flat and emotionless. "But you don't seem to care too much for living, either."

There has never been any documentation of a Ghost hating its Guardian. Genji thinks he might be the first. He switches over to the open voice channel between him and McCree.

“Thanks for tagging along,” he says, some part of him ashamed for cutting Ghost off, but it’s not a conversation he wants to have, not out in the open and certainly not with McCree nearby. “My Ghost wanted some extra company, I believe.”

From the balcony above him, he sees McCree’s helmet turn to face him, bright red Gunslinger’s cape fluttering as he moves. He sketches a casual salute with a pistol in his hand. “No problemo, Genj,” he replies. The grin is there in his voice. “Always up for getting into trouble with ya.”

Genji scoffs, taking his first steps into the abandoned factory. It’s easier than what he imagines it to be. “Is that what you think of me?”

McCree’s voice is nothing but clear audio, even at their separated distance. “I think a lot of things about you,” he says, and his voice channel shuts off with a pointed click.

Over his shoulder, Genji’s Ghost flickers and spins with a soft blue glow. Anyone could attest the sudden movement to turning on it’s additional light source to brighten the room, but Genji gets the distinct feeling that it’s winking at him. He stares at Ghost, only for a second, and has to quicken his pace to burn off the sudden restlessness in his mechanical body.

So maybe his Ghost doesn’t hate him.

“We’ll rendezvous with McCree at the second basement level,” says Ghost, once Genji has jogged a far enough distance to calm himself.

Genji tips his head in acknowledgment. There is a broken elevator shaft ahead of him. His radar pings with new heat signatures, a strange thing to find an a supposed abandoned factory.

“Lights out,” he tells Ghost, and the room turns dark.

The lack of light gives the factory a different kind of unnerving feel. Genji is no stranger to darkness—has done the majority of his work in it—but it’s the history of the building that preys on the lingering nightmares of his mind.

The elevator shaft is a deep, dark hole. Above the ruined doors there is old fading kanji, impossible to see in the dark if not for Genji’s enhanced sight. He cannot read it, not with the jagged scratches cutting through the wall. He can remember what it says though, the ugly memory as faded as the kanji.

Ghost bumps against the side of his head, a gentle nudge. The sound is an innocent tap that only echos in Genji’s helmet. Genji draws out his rifle, checks the ammunition, and nudges his Ghost back.

It’s an apology, of sorts. In case something happens to either of them.

With a silent leap forward, Genji drops into the elevator shaft, and drifts down, down, down.

* * *

More bodies strewn everywhere. Some are enemy Vex, some are exo shells. Both are the end results of Genji’s work. The factory is silent again, but in Genji’s mind he can picture it illuminated with harsh light, heavy machinery rattling and churning like it’s alive and angry. He remembers it, with a startling amount of clarity he wishes he didn’t have.

This is where he had been made. Or rebuilt. Or killed. Different words, same meaning.

If he had been still able to breathe, he knows he would be hyperventilating right now. But he is no longer human, so the biological chemicals of panic channel through him in the form of violent action. He shoots at computers long dead, rages at the chamber that had harvested the bodies of unwanted criminals, and claws at the unfinished exo parts hanging from the walls.

The noise he makes summons more Vex, more machines that bear a twisted resemblance to the torn exo bodies all around them.

Ghost stays quiet, floating over the lone computer Genji has managed to not destroy. It hacks into the database and relays Genji the relevant information, should he choose to have it. The rest is for the Vanguard’s warlocks, hungry for more of their forgotten past. Genji’s radar glows a dangerous red all over, and he is surrounded by Vex.

“Five minutes,” says Ghost, glittering in the corner of Genji’s vision. “Stay alive.”

“That all?” Genji says, and his body is already crackling with Arc energy, a knife in each hand. He is glad for the flood of enemies, wanting nothing more than a hard fight to burn out his anger.

The Vex shrieks are inhuman, a mix of animalistic howling and mechanical screeching. Genji’s knives, suffused with a deadly energy like lightning, cut through them one by one.

A long time ago, his Ghost had said it wasn’t surprised at all, when Genji showed a penchant for Arc energy. It doesn’t take long to see that Genji had none of the warm glow suited for Solar users, or the calming resilience of the Void. When Ghost had chosen him, Genji had woken up with a vicious spark that electrified the very air around him.

 _“You were so alive,”_ Ghost tells him, in the quiet of their ship, during nights when Genji lays on the floor, unmoving in body and useless in mind. _“You were made of light.”_

The memory comes, unbidden, like most of Genji’s thoughts. He despairs a little, at his Ghost. At himself. Because what is a Ghost if not an extension of their Guardians?

The energy dies out from his knives and Genji draws out his rifle, firing at the Vex. There is a Minotaur in front of him, teleporting closer in short bursts. Genji moves away, his trigger finger pulling fast. Its white distorted shields go down, but not before it lands a hit, staggering Genji back.

“Shields, seventy percent,” Ghost reports.

Genji swaps his rifle for the sidearm at his hip, and the Minotaur goes down with a pop of bullets to the abdomen. Distantly, he can feel the buzzing of more enemy fire hitting his shields. His HUD reports the extent of his damage, which is negligible in the grand scheme of things. He reloads.

When Ghost reports two minutes left, Genji’s shields are gone, down to zero percent with no hope of recharging until he can find cover—and there is very little cover to be found in the factory’s open basement. His rifle is back in his hands, pulling steady bursts from Harpies to Goblins.

In the corner, he sees the telltale smoke of more Vex being summoned. A white light glitters, a single red mechanical eye flickers on. Hydra.

Without his shields, Genji feels every impact of each pulse hit.

“Right leg functionality; fifty percent... forty… twenty...”

Genji pivots with his left. There is nowhere to run anyway.

“Left arm, thirty percent.”

Genji switches to his sidearm, and starts firing with his right hand.

“Ghost,” he says, his HUD flashing out so many warnings he can hardly see.

Ghost wipes his display clean, forgoing all the critical alerts, and tells him, “Five seconds; brace.”

“For _what_?”

Sunlight.

The entire room goes up in flames, roaring with a kind of ferocious warmth that even Genji can feel. Somewhere in the brightness, he can make out a vivid red cloak, fluttering wildly in the heat. Genji raises his gun again, a little laugh escaping from him.

The entire factory seems to disappear in fire—the exo corpses, the Vex—all of it swallowed up in flames. Genji cannot see anything but the way McCree aims his weapon and fires, golden and brilliant against the darkness. Around them, everything else burns, and Genji suddenly understands why McCree’s Ghost is so fond of telling the story of how it found its Guardian.

Genji’s arms fall back to his sides, his own body repairing itself. He watches McCree until the Solar energy fizzles out from him, and the room becomes dim again, illuminated only by their two Ghosts.

McCree holsters his pistol. He looks a little worse for wear himself, armor scuffed and dented in the usual places. His gaze passes over the machinery, the exo parts, the Vex corpses, and finally settles on Genji.

“C’mon,” he says. He’s likely figured the factory’s history out on his own, and the reason why Genji had been so driven to take on the mission alone. If he is angry, it only shows in the way he grabs Genji’s wrist and pulls—and that is a deserving kind of anger Genji can accept. “Let’s get outta here.”

Genji hesitates, looking down at the space between them. McCree’s gloved hand on his arm means nothing beyond the insistence of wanting to leave a dark, desolate chamber. Genji wonders if there should be more to it than that. He allows McCree to lead him away, their Ghosts chattering overhead, exchanging data and coordinates. McCree’s ship is already outside, waiting to take them away from Earth’s sad, crumbling world.

“For a moment,” he admits, stopping to take one last look into the chamber, “I thought this place was beautiful, with sunlight.”

McCree turns to him, expression hidden behind his helmet, but Genji can take a guess of what it might look like. He sees his Ghost relay their coordinates to McCree’s ship in the periphery of his HUD, and he slips his wrist from McCree’s grip to take his hand proper.  Behind him, the chamber is silent.

“Well, lucky for you,” McCree laughs, shimmering as his ship pulls them in, safe and sound, “The sun doesn’t set in space.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Terry; _[Guardian Down](http://alfheimr.tumblr.com/post/152300238649)_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> About revivals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Birthday fic for @[gee](http://archiveofourown.org/users/gee)! Originally posted on my writeblog, aubabbu@tumblr.

McCree has never liked dying in any way.  It hurts, for one, no matter what the cause, and he’s had a small taste of everything throughout his lifetime; death by bullets, death by plasma, death by falling.  At one point his body gets eaten, armor and all, and that had been the worst.  It had been slow and agonizing, feeling the Thralls tear into him, devouring his Light.  He doesn’t like to remember, but fear is a useful tool that keeps his eyes sharp and aim steady.

He does his best to keep alive, but the first time Genji revives him on the battlefield, McCree nearly goes to pieces.

Genji’s Light is different from Commander Reyes’ cooling touch or Ana’s calming waves of reassurance.  When he reaches out to McCree’s broken Ghost, Genji’s Light doesn’t pour into into McCree, it strikes hard and fast.  Being revived feels like a lightning storm, and Genji yanks McCree back to life with an unforgiving ferocity that leaves him overflowing with more energy than he can hold.    

McCree lands on his feet, armor systems overcharged and body crackling with wild electricity.  It’s always a strange feeling, being suffused with someone else’s Light.  It’s something intimate, brushing too close to his soul.  His heart pounds in his ears, and he thinks his hands might be too jittery to aim his pistol but his focus narrows down to pinpoint, precise as a bolt of lightning.  He fires over Genji’s shoulder, Hive Knights staggering with each shot.

Genji turns, arc blades spinning in his hands.  The air around him fizzles and snaps, shattered blue light dancing at his feet as he leaps towards the Hive.  His knives bites deep and the corpses he leaves behind dissolve away into broken matter and scatters circles of light over the ground.  They spill into McCree, electrical current unending, and it pulls a small, ecstatic whoop of joy from them both.  They are viciously alive, and McCree can’t help but chase after Genji, sunlight firing from his hands as they finish off the rest of the Hive.  

 _A guardian could get addicted to this_ , he thinks, catching the leftover fumes of Genji’s energy.  Like cigarette smoke that bites and sears his lungs, it makes McCree’s spine tingle up and down.  All he can see is Genji in the very middle of a deadly storm of light.

If he has to die again for this, he may not mind so much.  It’s a dangerous passing thought, reckless and impulsive, but it’s gone by the time Genji’s blades fizzle out from his hands, the storm cutting short with one last angry crackle.

McCree doesn’t feel tired— _far from it_ —but he sinks to the ground anyway, laughing quietly in half-confusion and half-delight, like he’s somehow drunk.  He doesn’t want to die again, he _doesn’t_ , he _swears_.

Genji runs over to him, yelling with concern into their voicelink, and goes silent in shock when McCree pulls him down.  Genji willingly falls on top of him, cloak drifting over them both, and McCree presses his helmet to Genji’s forehead.

“Ah,” says Genji, surprised, but he relaxes in McCree’s hold.

There is no more lighting, no more Arc energy coursing between them, but McCree finds the feeling is the nearly same. 

 

* * *

**[Bonus log]**

 

A hundred more revivals later, and McCree finally asks in the privacy of Genji’s ship.  Their Ghosts hover above them, silent and comforting to them both.   **  
**

Genji looks up from his maps, neon green core lighting beneath the gaps of his metal jaw.  His eyes flicker with the same color as he takes a moment to think.

“It’s different from Zenyatta and Angela,” he finally answers.  “With them, it’s warm.  Soothing.”  He has always been surrounded by people with an affinity for solar energy.  McCree is not the only source of sunlight in his life, and neither is he the brightest nor the warmest.

McCree isn’t bothered, but he still wonders.

“So how does it feel?” he asks again.  His hand cannon is dismantled on their shared table, in need of a cleaning from their last strike mission together.  McCree had revived Genji towards the end of it, and Genji had come back in a blaze of heat, ruthless and vehement towards the Cabal.

“You?” Genji says, looking at him. “Your Light _burns_.”  

McCree’s brow furrows. He is uneasy in his disbelief.  A revival shouldn’t be painful.  “It hurts you?”

Genji glances down, back at his maps.  His answer is immediate, but there is a hesitant quality to his tone.  “No.  It doesn’t hurt.”  

McCree falls silent, troubled, but Genji seems to sense his dismay and sits up, squaring his shoulders, bracing for something McCree doesn’t know about.  Their Ghosts drift back to them, responsive of their emotions.  

“It feels like…” Genji begins, shifting closer to McCree, as if he can combat his own awkwardness by pushing past it.  “It feels like a clean burn.  I die, angry at myself, and then you come along and burn all that away.  It’s like I can start anew.”  

“Oh,” says McCree, and he knows he should have expected honesty from such a personal question, but with Genji it takes him by surprise even when it shouldn’t.  They’ve been earnest with each other before.  He chuckles.  “A cleansing fire, eh?”

Genji tips his head to one side, and his Ghost glows bright and warm.  

“It’s a good fit for me,” he admits, drawing McCree in with a touch on his arm.  He huffs, a tiny bit exasperated.  “That answer your question?”

McCree ducks his head, unexpectedly bashful, but he grins all the same.

“All that and more, darling,” he replies, and closes the gap between them.


	3. brokenhearted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for Crimson Doubles. Alpha Team vs Bravo Team.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been wanting to write something about Crimson Doubles since the start of this dang Destiny AU. Some info about it [here](https://www.bungie.net/en/pub/CrimsonDays), especially about the Broken Heart. Crimson Days is by far my favorite Destiny event, haha. I apologize in advance for any typos, I just wanted to get this out.
> 
> Anyway, your usual mcgenji, along with some r76 because I am shameless and want my ships destroying each other. :')

* * *

 

 

They lose to Bravo team in a matter of seconds. McCree is still feeling the static of having his entire body punched out of existence when Athena revives him next to Genji. He lets out a low whistle, some part of him deeply impressed, even when he stretches his back as if it still hurt. The screen within his helmet reads the details of their deaths; McCree by a charged fist to the stomach, Genji by the aftershocks and a round of bullets. It is by far the quickest defeat they’ve had in the annual Crimson Doubles tournament, and McCree already knows Genji must be smarting from it.

“Well,” McCree says to him with a wry smile, “You don’t go up against the Vanguard and expect to win on the first try.”

He sees Genji stiffen, pulse rifle gripped tight in his hands. Genji doesn’t speak, but the abrupt way he checks the ammunition of his weapons is telling enough.

“Ah,” McCree says, rolling his aching shoulders back. “You expected to win. On the first try.”

“I didn’t expect to _lose_.”

McCree rests his hand over his hip, tipping his head to one side to convey his attention. Genji is a notorious force to be reckon with in the Crucible and while McCree is no slouch himself, there is something flattering in the way he had been roped into being Genji’s other half. With an event like Crimson Doubles, there are two types of fireteams—ones who want to enjoy the festivities and prizes, and then there’s the other kind who ruthlessly pair up to destroy other couples in the Crucible for the hell of it. McCree is pretty sure Genji is part of the latter group. They have dominated the current rankings this week and stayed there, up until now.

There is nothing romantic in the way Genji jumps in front of McCree to steal his kill credit, but that isn’t to say it isn’t fun for McCree either.

From across the Pantheon, Bravo team salutes them and patches in their open voicelink.

“Another round?” Commander Morrison asks, polite and neutral. He doesn’t sound winded at all.

Reyes remains silent and McCree gets the distinct impression the warlock is very unimpressed with them, maybe even disappointed. Genji is also quiet, but McCree already knows what _that_ means.

“That match was on the house,” McCree tells Morrison, speaking easily for Genji.

Reyes’ laugh is loud over their speakers. “Watch out, Morrison, the kids mean business now.”

“Should have meant business a minute ago,” Morrison replies, for all of them to hear, “Or was it thirty seconds? I don’t remember, it was pretty quick.”

Genji shifts, cutting the public commlink off. He switches to a private link with McCree, incredibly rude, but that’s the general fare for the Crucible.

“I want them _dead_ ,” he says, flat.

McCree grins, signaling for Athena to begin the next match. “Sweetheart, we’ll crush them.’

 

* * *

 

They lose the next two rounds against Commanders Morrison and Reyes. Genji is fuming so bad McCree wonders if he’ll somehow combust in smoke, leaving McCree to fend for himself in the upcoming rounds.

“Maybe it’s Alpha Team’s composition,” Reyes muses, his voice buzzing from the overhead speakers. “Two Hunters? Really?”

“Gabe, your voicelink. It’s set to public. They can hear you,” says Morrison. Reyes immediate grunt of indifference is cut off and the comms go silent again.

McCree grabs Genji by the hood of his cloak as a precaution. Combustion may be a near thing at this point. The fabric strains a bit, but Genji stays put for the most part. Despite not taking the losses very graciously, it hasn’t affected the accuracy of his aim or the swiftness of his knives.

A more pessimistic person would admit to being outclassed and outskilled, but McCree’s pessimism doesn’t run so deep that he cannot see a learning opportunity when it presents itself. Morrison and Reyes have been a duel fireteam for decades now—and it shows, in its completely ruthless and terrifying way.

Beside him, Genji is fiery and unafraid. McCree finds it oddly reassuring as they run together through the Pantheon’s unmoving gardens, dimly lit under a hazy green cast of light. Genji doesn’t falter against the odds, he only pushes harder.

They find Commander Morrison running towards them, silvery armor gleaming. By then Genji has learned to not engage the Titan so closely, no matter how tempting. He jumps back, green cloak whipping around him, and he fires a burst of pulse ammunition. Meanwhile, McCree moves aside, letting Genji take the majority Morrison’s fire while he scans the area for Reyes. With some relief, he finds no one.

Commander Morrison is alone, which isn’t so unusual. Both McCree and Genji have died by him in an attempt to separate either one of the Vanguards. It turns out Reyes and Morrison are plenty dangerous alone, and triply so as a fireteam.

“His shields are gone,” Genji reports, tossing his flash grenade for cover. His own shields are blinking critical red in McCree’s screen.

“Got it,” breathes McCree; Commander Morrison’s suit functionality is down to the single digits. _They have him_.

Morrison steps back, jumping up, making a bigger target for himself. It’s strange, but McCree is already lining up his shot the same time the electric loud crack of a sniper round hits Morrison to the side of his head. The bullet propels Morrison back in a bloody spray, and McCree misses his shot, though it wouldn’t have mattered anyway—Morrison is dead by the time his body hits the ground.

Morrison’s Ghost springs up from his corpse, glowing blue and spinning wildly. The red pilot light from Reyes’s sniper rifle blinks in the distance and McCree has a split second to register the distinct sound of the Hereafter whizzing by his ear before he ducks back around the corner with Genji.

“What the hell...” McCree mutters in the privacy of his own helmet.

Genji’s voice patches through, sharp. “The kill point, Ghost.”

“Bravo Team, zero. Alpha team, zero,” his Ghost reports, serene.

Genji and McCree fall silent, taking in this new piece of information. The strange upwards jump Commander Morrison had made before he died makes appalling sense now. McCree grunts, reloading his hand cannon with grim acceptance. It is a little unnerving, knowing Bravo Team would rather kill themselves than to let the competition gain any points.

“Reyes’ last known location,” Genji finally says, with all the Hunter’s spirit of going after its prey.

McCree shakes his head. “No, guard the body. He’ll be wanting to revive Morrison.”

“ _Would_ he?” Genji asks dryly.

McCree starts to respond but stops. Out of the Crucible Reyes wouldn’t do this, wouldn’t put down a teammate for the sake of winning. McCree knows this first hand, on missions when he would be revived under Reyes’ cooling light and void. But he has also seen Reyes in the Crucible.

The Crucible plays differently, where Guardians can push their limits and their morals. A dead teammate means nothing at the end of the day.

“And our commanders,” Genji adds, jogging alongside McCree as they try to locate Reyes, “They have a habit of not playing nicely with each other, same team or no.”

McCree makes a thoughtful sound. “Sounds like an advantage we can exploit.”

“Yes, we-” Genji begins, but the rest of his words fizzle out as a bullet snaps his head to the side, the flash from the round blinding them both. He staggers behind McCree. “Shit.”

In front of them, Reyes is fast approaching. He shines a brilliant crimson, bringing to life the tournament’s namesake. Brokenhearted and ready for vengeance. McCree has felt the Broken Heart few times himself—it’s a dangerous kind of high, the feeling of hot rage making him stronger and faster. Each time Genji dies, McCree sees red, and everything becomes easier to kill.

But Genji is not dead, not now, and McCree doesn't like paying the price for the Broken Heart, no matter how strong it makes him.

Reyes reaches them in a heartbeat, in a blink. He’s all red smoke and light, carefully controlled wrath and retribution. He holds a circle of dark void in one hand, deceptively small, and pushes it into Genji, even as McCree shoots at his head. Reyes’ shield holds, flashing briefly as it absorbs the damage.

Genji makes a small noise of pain, his Light snuffed out, and for a moment McCree gets to see the same kind of red as Reyes. It only lasts a second before Reyes shoots him, enhanced weapons shutting him down with ease.

“Rethink your strategy,” Reyes offers McCree, right before he dies.

Athena revives Alpha Team and Commander Morrison for the next round.

 

* * *

 

They kill Reyes together, though McCree has to jump in the line of fire to buy time for Genji to charge his arc blades. Genji’s shining knives are still in his hands when he revives McCree, the rest of his arc energy bringing him back to life. McCree settles back into his body just in time to see the Broken Heart fade from Genji.

“Red’s a good look on you,” McCree says, feeling jittery from Genji’s Light. “Should’ve went after Morrison with those knives.”

The blades disappear from Genji’s sides. Genji shrugs, standing over Reyes’ body.

“We’re making progress,” he says. “We’re starting to kill them now.”

 _By killing ourselves along the way_ , McCree thinks wryly, but Genji’s Light is still running through him like an electrical wire. It’s better than any Broken Heart on his sleeve, and he thinks Genji may have his own reasons to eschew the Broken Heart.

In that round, both of them die by Morrison’s arc storm. Morrison wears his Broken Heart like a second suit, calm and collected as he drives his arc lightning into the ground.

McCree’s Light holds out just long enough for him to see Morrison kneel down over Reyes’ body, helmet bent low, hands reaching out for his Ghost.

* * *

“Maybe we should try using the Broken Heart,” McCree suggests in the quiet moments before the start of the next match. He sounds just as reluctant as he feels.

Genji glances at him, green visor glowing. He reaches up, touching the back of McCree’s neck, metal tapping gently on armor.

McCree can’t feel it, but he finds himself leaning back into Genji’s open palm.

“We’ll win this our way,” Genji tells him.

 

* * *

 

McCree catches Genji’s Ghost in his hands as he fumbles with his gun. He has a moment of indecisiveness between his weapon and Genji’s body beneath his feet, but in the end he chooses to funnel his Light into Genji’s waiting Ghost. It doesn’t occur to him to run.

“C’mon,” he mutters, sunlight in his hands, nothing but warmth for Genji’s cold corpse.

Genji reappears in a golden haze of solar light. He doesn’t thank McCree, but pulling out a shotgun and shooting Morrison in the face is appreciation enough. McCree’s shields have just enough time to recharge before they start running away—they know for a fact Reyes has a novabomb charged by now.

“I saw Reyes head towards the middle chamber,” Genji says.

“I thought I saw him run behind us?” McCree huffs.

“Ah, fuck,” Genji sighs, glancing up.

Reyes drifts down with a raised hand, dark stars circling around his wrist. He tosses it towards them, a small supernova of dark void energy to tear them apart.

 

* * *

 

Several rounds later, McCree thinks Genji has completely lost it. Genji starts to laugh, wild and delighted.

McCree doesn’t know what’s so funny. His gun is shining bright and golden in one hand. Reyes is dead by one golden bullet. Morrison jumps in front of them, and McCree’s heart pounds in his chest, getting himself ready for another strike of lightning. He fires his last bullet.

Morrison doesn’t land in a storm of arc energy. Instead, he spreads his arms, a sphere of void surrounding both him and Reyes. McCree’s last bullet disappears against the impenetrable shield.

Morrison revives Reyes, void energy swirling around them. Both their shields are overcharged, and McCree knows he and Genji haven’t a chance at winning this round. Reyes hands start crackling with arc energy, and Morrison only waits, looking on with an air of amusement.

“They’ve switched elemental energies,” McCree says in disbelief. He steps back, an involuntary motion.

Genji continues to laugh, even as they both die by Reyes’ lightning, and McCree supposes he has to wait until they’ve been revived to ask about it.

 

* * *

 

“We have them,” Genji answers, flexing his hands over his rifle. “Haven’t you noticed? They’re reviving each other now.”

McCree blinks. “They’ve switched energy types. Because we’re starting to figure them out.”

Genji starts to laugh again, loading his rifle.

“We have them,” he repeats, and McCree grins.

 

* * *

 

They catch Morrison and Reyes reviving each other more than once. The Broken Heart starts appearing with less frequency, and McCree is starting to catch the pattern. He is sure Genji is starting to sense it too, even if the Vanguard have stopped separating from each other.

Genji crouches next to McCree, cloaking device powering on. He disappears from McCree’s sight, though McCree’s friendly radar marks him.

“I’ll take on Commander Morrison,” Genji says conversationally, as if they’re only discussing the unchanging weather on Mars. He sounds oddly confident, especially after countless deaths from Morrison’s charged fist.

McCree tilts his head, quiet.

“Trust me to stay alive,” Genji says.

“Don’t I always?”

Genji makes a sound through his speakers, dry static and white noise. “Not when we first met, I believe.”

McCree laughs, feeling something tap against his shoulder. It feels like Genji’s invisible hand, smoothing out his gunslinger’s cloak.

“As long as you have my back,” Genji continues, the shallow water beneath his feet sending ripples as he moves forward. “They’re going lose this one.”

 

* * *

 

They win one round, eventually.

Genji’s armor is cracked in multiple places, electrical static dancing around his body, and McCree is no better, his cloak in patches where Reyes’ biting void energy had consumed the material.

But Reyes’ corpse is on the ground, along with Morrison’s body some distance away. Their Ghosts hover and blink brightly in the Pantheon’s eerie glow. Genji glances at McCree from across the field, dropping his arms, pulse rifle spent of all it’s bullets.

In the next moment, McCree is falling over, brought down by Genji running straight into him.

 _“Yes!”_ Genji yells. He punches the air in victory, twice, before he bends down into clunk his helmet against McCree’s in a misaligned kiss. He stands back up, leaving McCree dazed. “ _Yes, yes, yes!_ ”

McCree head spins, staring up at the reconstructed night sky. When he tries getting to his feet, Genji jumps on him again, knocking him flat once more for another excited kiss-turned-headbutt. McCree hangs on tight to Genji, a little laugh bubbling up from him before he joins in with the yelling.

Their Crucible scores are _wrecked_ , and he absolutely does not care.

 

* * *

 

“They’ve won _once_ ,” Jack grouses, once they’ve been revived. “Out of fifteen matches.”

Gabriel takes a seat on the Black Garden’s steps. He tugs Jack to sit down next to him, a little miffed himself, but he can’t help but smile. Jack stays stubbornly standing, despite Gabriel’s hand over his wrist.

“We’ve _lost_ once,” Gabriel says, rephrasing it. “Out of fifteen matches. What’s got you all worked up?”

Jack stares at him for a total of three seconds before relenting. He sits down, Titan mark fluttering over Gabriel’s legs.

“Jealous?” Gabriel presses. He gestures vaguely over to where Genji and McCree are still celebrating, their shouting silenced by their helmets but their excited jumping makes it abundantly clear as to what they are doing.

“Of _that_?” Jack replies, looking at them. Gabriel can imagine his stern frown, his slightly mortified expression at being caught. “Not really.”

“‘Not really’ isn’t a _no_ ,” Gabriel says.

Jack leans back, his hand coming up to his face as if he wants to drag it down in exasperation. He peers over at Gabriel. “And you?”

Gabriel bumps his armored shoulder against Jack’s, just as Jack’s hand slides down to grip his. “Not really.”

 


	4. tether

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An interlude about the void.

* * *

  
  


“ _Move_ ,” says Reyes, landing next to McCree in a cloud of static and faint lines, and they hit the ground running through the Black Garden.

The heat from Mars disappears, orange sand replaced with cool gray stone and sprouting green grass, of all things.  McCree has spent decades on the planet, as both a lost wanderer and a Guardian, but the Black Garden is still an eerie mystery to him.  Floating red petals dot the pathway, old Vex bodies frozen in stasis to greet them.  McCree dashes past, faster than Reyes with his lighter armor and growing unease.

He risks opening his voicelink to the rest of the fireteam for a moment, and there’s nothing but white noise and unintelligible shouting.  He can hear Commander Morrison’s voice over gunfire, and then Genji’s sharper tone cutting through the chaos.

“No,” Genji is saying, his connection breaking between words.  “No, I will _not_ -”

McCree cuts the voicelink, ears ringing from the high volume.  His ghost flashes a silent warning not to do it again.  The Black Garden is deceptively peaceful now, but he and Reyes are only near the gate in its outskirts.

“Doesn’t make a lick of sense,” he mutters, turning a corner.  He almost stops at the sight—before him is a labyrinth of pretty teal hues, speckled red with flowers as far as he can see. In the distance, he can make out a shining gate in the shape of a giant crumbling circlet.  Wherever the other half of the fireteam is, it’s through there.  McCree speeds up, lungs burning despite his immortality.  “They should’ve waited for us.  They _knew_ they’d need you, with or without me.”

Reyes doesn’t sound very happy either, but he’s calmer than McCree by far.  “Morrison can use void energy.”

“Oh, but titan shields ain’t gonna do shit when there’s Vex to kill,” McCree says, pulling out his gun.  It’s not the Last Word, but it’s got a decent bite for void damage and that’ll have to do for him. He _worries_.

Genji’s element is arc energy and Angela is just like McCree—another guardian with an affinity for the sun—and it had been a puzzling mission for both Genji and Angela to take on together when none of them had the void on their side.  There’s _Morrison_ , of course, but McCree frowns just thinking about it.  A Vanguard commander ought to have better things to do, and people better suited so send to the Black Garden on a day when arc and solar energies are at their weakest.  

Reyes doesn’t reply.

“Something’s not right about all this,” McCree finishes, eyeing him askance, and knows that’s all the information he’ll get for now.

“Yeah,” Reyes says, confirming McCree’s suspicions. “Let’s hurry.”

McCree doesn’t say anymore after that.

 

* * *

  
  


They jump through the last gate together and McCree’s vision swims for a dizzying second before his boots touch solid ground.

It’s chaos.  The Black Garden’s green grass and vivid flowers turn to brown and black, and nothing seems quite as pretty any longer.  There’s fire, but none of it from the solar energy McCree uses.  Reyes takes the ledge next to him as soon as they get rid of the Vex snipers on top, helmet turning to assess the situation.  His hand touches the side of his head, a tic most of the older guardians all have when using voicelinks.  McCree glances at him, his own line silent—Reyes is probably trying to contact Morrison down below.

McCree swaps his hand cannon for a sniper rifle, peering through the scope for a better look.  He sees Morrison’s Ward of Dawn right away, bright purple light a shining beacon for both enemies and allies.  In the middle there is Morrison himself, bringing down Vex after Vex, and McCree fires three shots to clear some of the bigger enemies.  

Angela’s ghost glimmers in a corner, just out of reach from Morrison’s ward.  Even from a distance McCree can see that she doesn’t have enough light yet for a revival.  His hand twitches over the trigger, wanting to go down, but he shifts the lens, trying to find Genji—or Genji’s ghost.

It takes a moment too long for McCree’s liking, but he finally catches Genji in the midst of weaving through the Vex, just a little ways from Morrison.  McCree feels a quick breath of relief— _one less person to revive_ —but his relief turns into slight confusion as he watches the exo fight.  There is something sluggish and awkward about Genji’s movements, though he doesn’t seem injured.  McCree pulls away from the scope.  With the Vex, he can’t really assume anything.  

He glances at Reyes, who still hasn’t moved from his spot.

“I’m going down,” McCree says.  He doesn’t have enough sniper rounds to be much use from his ledge, and he wants to point out that Reyes most likely doesn’t either.

Reyes makes a noise of frustration, the sound taking McCree by surprise.  He jumps forward.

“Morrison wants us to standby,” Reyes says, clearly not interested in doing whatever the other Vanguard Commander wants.  “Watch Morrison’s back, McCree. I’ll get Genji.”

McCree hurries down with him, half a thought in him to be resentful about covering for Morrison, but all the resentment in the universe isn’t enough of a reason when against the Vex.  His hand cannon spins in his right hand, a little idle flourish.

As McCree gets closer to the battle, he sees Genji stumble back before launching himself back into the Vex.  McCree almost misses it, but he has two lifetimes worth of tracking the movements of other beings—the way people run or the way his enemies sway to their own rhythm.  Genji is putting up a vicious fight, but he is holding himself with less than his usual grace and quickness.  Something holds him back, and McCree doesn’t place it until Genji raises his knife to jab a Vex through its white abdomen, viscous bio-liquid bursting over his armor.

McCree expects to see the bright blue spark of arc energy, but Genji’s knife is made of dark void, black swirl covering his fist before dissipating.  The Vex dies and Genji moves on.  McCree doesn’t have time to dwell on how strange it looks, only that he knows it’s _wrong._

He reaches Morrison within his shield, void energy clearing his buzzing head with cool relief.  Morrison helmet turns, acknowledging him.  In front of them, Genji clears the last of the Vex, but McCree can already see the smoke start to form around the exo, red Vex eyes blinking before another wave.

“I’ll get Angela,” McCree says, watching as new the Vex start appearing all around them.  He empties his clip into a minotaur and stands back when Morrison rushes forward to cover him.

“No, not yet,” Morrison says, and his shield flickers, ward dying in a flash of light.  “Genji.”

Genji’s voice patches into their voicelink, calm despite the situation.  “What do you need?”

“Reyes is here.  My ward is down.”

Something rings odd in Genji’s tone—it’s not _calm_ , McCree realizes, it’s empty and cold; “Very well.”

He doesn’t get it, not really.  Aside from the occasional weapon, McCree hasn’t had much experience with using void energy.  He knows it by way of secondhand information, something he has seen or feel from other guardians.  In his own hands, void energy only slips through his fingers, incomprehensible and incompatible.  There are some guardians blessed with the ability to use more than one energy type, and he is not one of them.  

Genji flashes bright with void energy, but even McCree can tell the light is erratic and wavering.  The power is there—it’s clear that Genji has dabbled as a Nightstalker before—but the bow appears in his hands and Genji’s energy starts spiking in sharp, jagged tendrils around him.  None of it is the calm swirling void McCree is used to seeing from Reyes.  

Standing next to Morrison, McCree can only watch.  He thinks Genji could have destroyed everything around him, enemy or ally, if he wanted to.  Swallow up the entire Black Garden and erase it from existence without a care.  

Genji draws an arrow made from broken matter, the glitter of dying stars whipping around him, and fires.

 

* * *

  
  


The Black Garden becomes silent shortly after.  McCree revives Angela with his own solar power, bridging her familiar warm energy with his own.  She drops down in his arms and pushes him aside to look around.

“Genji,” she says, the hand on his arm tightening when she sees the quiet garden littered with Vex bodies. The leftover energy orbs rolls beneath their feet, but they are both already overcharged.

“That was Reyes, actually,” McCree says, though he isn’t sure if it helps matters in the end.

A novabomb is deadly enough on it’s own. Combined with a Nightstalker’s Tether, it’s bound to make quick work of any wave of enemies.

“Morrison shouldn’t have-” Angela begins, angry, but she catches sight of Genji approaching their commander.  She brushes past McCree.

Genji still has void energy clinging on him like glittering dark smoke.  Arc energy would have directed his temper, burned it out into something more manageable, but his anger condenses with the void, trapped and building up with nowhere to escape.  He doesn’t grab at Morrison, doesn’t lash out or get in his face. And _that_ is frightening enough.

“Do not _ever_ make me do that again,” Genji says in a voice that echos nothing back.

Morrison tips his head, considering.  

“No,” he agrees, “You’re too unstable for it.”  It’s useless to the Vanguard, he doesn’t say, but the implication is there.

Angela gets in between them, a firm hand pushing Morrison back.  She doesn’t touch Genji at all. “Enough.  We need to leave this place.  Genji, switch back-”

“Already done,” Genji says, his voice already sounding less deadened and more sardonic.  The void fades off him, a tiny spark of arc energy flitting over his body.  He rolls his shoulders back, as if trying to shake off whatever dark energy still clings on to him.  

Morrison watches him closely, but McCree sees the way Reyes touches the back of his arm, somehow more forceful than Angela pushing him back.  He turns, letting Genji lead the way out of the garden.

“Let’s go then.”

 

* * *

  
  


“It’s not that he’s incompatible with the void like you,” Reyes tells McCree, over a private voicelink.

“I know he was _killed_ by a Tether.  Before he became a guardian,” McCree says, walking along side him.  Ahead of them, Genji and Angela are having their own private conversation.  Judging from Genji’s curt nods, his temper still seems to be high, so McCree doesn’t bother trying to speak with him.  “Seems kinda cruel to force it on him.”

Reyes shrugs, not uncaring, but only because there is nothing more he can add to it.  He makes a small gesture to Morrison, walking alone to the side.

“Remember what you saw today,” he says, glancing at McCree. “We are bound to do things just as terrible to you.”

“That’s…” McCree starts, almost stopping in his tracks.

“A thought to keep in mind,” Reyes says, as Morrison turns to them, oblivious to their words, but apprehension crawls up McCree’s spine.

Reyes cuts the voicelink between them.


	5. ahamkara

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ahamkara bones and skulls. (Prompt from tumblr.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For ref: [Ahamkara](http://destiny.wikia.com/wiki/Ahamkara) - The nasty piece Genji is wearing is the [Young Ahamkara’s Spine](http://destiny.wikia.com/wiki/File:Young_Ahamkara%27s_Spine.jpeg), with special callbacks to the flavor text for [Sealed Ahamkara Grasps](http://destiny.wikia.com/wiki/Sealed_Ahamkara_Grasps).

Silver, as it turns out, is hard to find on the Dreadnaught in the middle of Saturn’s rings.  In between fighting the Taken and the Cabal and, consequently, _Taken_ Cabal, McCree checks with his ghost, asking it to scan nearly anything that gleams metallic gray within the Dreadnaught’s interior.

He thinks a less patient companion might have snapped at him by now, but Ghost only shines its blue light over the Cabal’s silvery control systems and chirps a worried negative.  

“I’m fine,” Genji says, flexing his fingers.  The ahamkara gauntlets lift, spinal disks trailing up his arm and tapering to a menacing skull at his shoulder.  He pauses, tilting his head as if listening to something very far away, though the comms are quiet between them.  He shakes his head.  “I’ve worn ahamkara armor before.”

“With _silver_ ,” McCree points out, but Genji shrugs.

“The faster we get out of here, the sooner I can take them off, then,” Genji says with a note of finality.  Because, somehow, he had decided that some armor, no matter how dangerous, is better than no armor at all.

McCree frowns from inside his helmet.  No doubt Genji can feel him frowning from a planet away at this rate, but they are standing side by side each other now, here on this blasted Cabal ship.  Genji glances at him and shifts closer, sensing his frustration.  The ahamkara’s skull on his shoulder stares ahead, unseeing.

“I think we should leave them, I really do,” McCree tries again.

They had found the ahamkara gauntlets stowed away in a corner, too tempting of a find to pass up despite being unsealed by silver.  Out of curiosity, McCree had tried them on first, jagged bones fitting over his arm with uncanny perfection—and not a minute had gone by before he started hearing the whispers in his head and took the pieces right off, no questions asked.

He had said; _no thank you, ain’t touching none of that spooky shit, you go on ahead and wear them bones if you want, Genji. Not me._

In hindsight, McCree wishes that he hadn’t said anything at all and left the gauntlets behind.  It isn’t worth it, even though Genji had cut through the Cabal with ease since arming himself with the untempered bones of dead dragons.  Some things aren’t worth one’s peace of mind, and he had thought Genji would have agreed.

“Give me your hand,” Genji says after a moment.

With a sigh, McCree does, fingers curling into a tight hold.  Genji squeezes once.

“There,” Genji says, satisfied. “Grounded.  Isn’t gold better than silver, anyway?” 

McCree makes a rude noise.  All the solar energy he wields won’t be able to help.  He knows this, and Genji knows this.  Still, just for luck, he summons a small flame into his palm, warm golden light flitting between Genji’s fingers before dying out.  

“Don’t think you can charm your way out of this,” McCree says, just as black smoky tendrils start condensing in the air.  “…Aw, shit.”

He sees the Taken before he starts hearing the black holes of negative space, filling the ship with its strange fluted noises.  Blue-gray mist surrounds them, chillingly cold even through his armor.  The Taken shine like stars, ethereal glow a grim contrast to their violence.  McCree steps back, pulling away from Genji to draw his gun.

Genji’s grip on his hand doesn’t waver.

“Give me your arm,” Genji says, staring ahead.

“You’ve got my _hand_ ,” McCree snaps, not liking Genji’s distant tone or the way Genji’s hold is crushing.  He drags and pulls with little use, dread crawling up his spine.  Beneath all the deafening roars of the Taken, he starts to hear whispers his the back of his mind, draconic hissing growing loud in his ears.  

Genji’s ghost springs up next to them, blue light flickering frantically.  It scans Genji’s arm, down the ahamkara gauntlets, each disk shining blue.  The armor blinks in and out, and it takes a moment for McCree to realize that Genji’s ghost is trying to pull it off him by force.

“ _Gold_ ,” it tells McCree, as the ahamkara skull drills its black gaze into him.  It’s voice crackles, light draining.  “Shoot— _him_.”

“Give me your arm,” Genji repeats, and finally turns to face McCree.   The ahamkara spine rattles between them.

McCree hears the words clearly in his head, the voice of dead bones and the young angry dragon who had been killed for it.  It shouldn’t sound like Genji at all, but McCree’s mind freezes for a second too long, fixated on how similar their voices sound.

“ _Give me your arm, oh bearer mine_ ,” murmurs Genji, dragging him down, “ _Let me help you fill the world with teeth_.”

McCree draws his gun, gold flaring to life, and aims all his light at Genji.


	6. Grimoire Cards [Set 1]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A set a Grimoire Cards you discover from a couple of dead Ghosts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some fairly old drabbles I originally posted on my writing tumblr at [aubabbu](http://aubabbu.tumblr.com/) in the form of lore cards. :)

* * *

 

> **The Taken: Gabriel Reyes**

You are Gabriel Reyes.  Warlock of the Void.  Vanguard Commander.  Friend to only a handful of people—but they are yours, as you are theirs.

You have been taken.

You’ve loved, and have been loved, in all ways most important to you.  You put your faith in your people, give them difficult orders you would have rather carried out yourself.  They listen and they obey.  They call you out for all the right reasons, and you listen in return.  You look at the Traveler and think it is enough that you have them.  

Yet they do not see how you suffer.  You do not dream while you sleep.  There are no nightmares, but your actions haunt you in your waking moments.  You have torn yourself into pieces, and the people you’ve put so much faith into have started to abandon you.

You have been taken. The Void is has turned into chaotic entropy in your hands. In Darkness, there is quiet and clarity, emptier than the Void.  Enough to pour what chaotic pieces that are left of you.

Rest your heart and be at ease.  They cannot leave you for dead when you have never been alive to begin with.

There is a knife for you. It is shaped like [retribution].

Take up the knife. Bear it against your arm. Take your new shape.

 

* * *

 

> **Ghost Fragment: this guy’s from mars**

 

TYPE: PATROL FEED  
PARTIES: Two [2]. One [1] Guardian-type, Class Hunter [u.1]; One [1] Guardian-type, Class Warlock [u.2]  
ASSOCIATIONS: Black Wax [Consumable]; Ether Seeds [Consumable] Hellmouth, The [Earth’s Moon]; McCree, Jesse; Reyes, Gabriel; Patrol

//AUDIO UNAVAILABLE//  
//TRANSCRIPT FOLLOWS…/  
  
[u.1:01] Alls I’m sayin’, that stuff ain’t like Resupply Codes you use for Cabal.  Nearly lost my lunch choking it down.  
[u.2:01] Wait, what?  
[beat]  
[u.2:02] Don’t tell me you’re talking about that Black Wax I gave you.  
[u.1:02] Well, what else? Y’ain’t handed me any other gifts lately.  
[u.2:03] …You ate it.  
[silence]  
[u.1:03] Holy shit.  
[u.2:04] Holy shit.  
[u.1:04] Holy shit.  
[repeated; approximate time: 30 seconds]  
[u.2:5.0] Why the _hell_ would you eat it?  
[u.1:5.0] Thought they’d be like them Ether Seeds on Earth.  
[silence]  
[u.1:5.1] …Oh _fuck_.

 

* * *

 

//AUDIO FEED [RECOVERED DATA]

JM: That nonsense aside, how in the hell do you use Black Wax then?  
[beat]  
GR: It’s like a lotion.  
JM: Yeah?  
GR: Yeah.

 

* * *

 

<Crucible Killfeed Log>

**g_reyes says:** “So, in other words, you could say… you broke out in _‘Hives’_?”  
 **j_mccree** [sniped] **g_reyes**


	7. Twist Fate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In-game description of Glass Needles [_here_](https://www.destinygamewiki.com/wiki/Glass_Needles).

 

> **Ghost Fragment: Modified Glass Needle 1**

 

TYPE: Transcript.  
DESCRIPTION: Conversation.  
PARTIES: Two [2]. One [1] Guardian-type, Class Titan [u.1]; One [1] Guardian-type, Class Warlock [u.2]  
ASSOCIATIONS: Glass Needle [Consumable]; Bannerfall [Earth]; Morrison, John [AKA Soldier: 76]; Reyes, Gabriel [AKA Reaper]

//AUDIO UNAVAILABLE//  
//TRANSCRIPT FOLLOWS…/  
  
[u.1:01] Never seen anyone use it that way.  I like it.  
[u.2:01] ‘Cause I’m a Warlock.  We go all out with arts and crafts.  Here, take a look.  
[beat]  
[u.1:02] …Always knew you were handy with a needle and thread.  But this is… wow.  
[u.2:02] Clever, right? Weaved that bit of your Mark around the Bond with it.  
[u.1:03] Heh. Always knew you were were a romantic too.  
[u.2:03] Hah! So you’ll have no objections doing up the last stitch then.  
[u.1:04] Not a single one.  
[silence]  
[laughter]  
[audible snap]  
[u.2:04] I thread my life into yours.  
[u.1:05] Together we’ll twist fate.

 

* * *

 

 

> **Fortune Favors**

 

They cross that line the moment Genji lets his long cloak settle over Jesse’s head, gentle Venus rain dripping down the cloth and soaking it through.  It’s an illogical gesture; Jesse wears his helmet, immune to the weather, but he bows his head to Genji’s touch anyway and leans his weight on Genji’s shoulder.  They stay like that for long time after, watching the purple clouds and teal lightning play shifting patterns across the morning sky.

It’s a memory from a long time ago, but Genji dwells on it today, sitting in his own ship as Jesse unfurls his gunslinger’s cloak over their laps.  Genji pinches the end of the cloth with his fingers, artificial nerves glossing over the finer details of tactility, but the material is brilliant red in his vision.  When he stares down at it—changes the settings to his optics just so—he can see a gentle hue of unnamed colors that organic eyes cannot see. He hasn’t tried to describe it outloud yet, doesn’t really want to. This is something he wants to keep to himself.

Genji’s own cloak is folded neatly to the side, a pair of shears resting on top, serrated edges still glimmering hot from sharpened Light running through it.  He holds out a piece of his own cloak, scrap of cloth small in his hand and neatly cut.

Jesse takes it, palm clasping over Genji’s, pulling until he can press his lips to Genji’s metal wrist with a grin.  It feels like it should be momentous, but Genji thinks about that quiet time on Venus. Maybe it’s been coming since then, expectant on both their parts without really quite knowing exactly when.

Genji settles back into his seat.  His Ghost hovers in front of him, playing meaningless recordings of happy stories and legends from his collection of lost fragments.  He doesn’t watch Jesse, because even this needs some degree of privacy.

Something sparks beside him.  Genji turns, curious, and his quick glance turns into an assessing stare.  Jesse hums, a glass needle between his fingers and a thin line of blue light floating in the air, it’s edges blurry with a glow.  Genji reaches over, catching one end of the blue light, and manipulates it to curl.

“Thanks,” says Jesse, threading it through the glass needle.

They spin threads from their own Light.  Genji is no good at it, his strings of Arc energy fraying and jagged if he doesn’t concentrate enough.  But he concentrates, and Jesse weaves his light into the gunslinger’s cloak in even stitches.

“There’s that legend about the glass needle,” Genji comments, leaning against Jesse, curling over him.

He says legend, only to be polite.  With lives as long as theirs, it’s more a rumor, a piece of gossip shared among Guardians when it just so happens the legends are still living.

“Someone told me the story,” Jesse says with a sidelong look.  

“It doesn’t end well,” Genji says.  It won’t be part of the happy stories his lost fragments.  His Ghost would have omitted it for tonight.  “They say it taunts fate to turn backwards on itself.”

Jesse’s hand doesn’t still.  The glass needle pokes through the fabric, delicate point shimmering with an unknown quality.  He is relentless in his own way, refusing to back down at every turn even as Genji gives him every opportunity to.     

“Don’t much like to tempt fate either, but I like a good gamble now and then,” he says.  He loops the needle around and snaps the thread with his teeth.

Genji scoffs.  He presses his face into space between Jesse’s shoulder and the curve of his neck.

Jesse holds up his cloak for them both.  The mismatched patch sits at the hem of the hood, discreetly tucked beneath the shifting folds.  It would brush against his jaw when he wears it, sweep along his cheek if he tilts his head to rest against Genji’s shoulder for their next quiet moment—on Venus, or Earth, or wherever it happens to be.

“I’m feeling mighty lucky about this,” Jesse says, admiring it.

The glass needle disintegrates from his fingers, turning into glittering shards.  

“Ah,” Genji says, watching as it fades into the air.  Something presses into his hand, small and rough.  His closes his fist and looks down to see a scrap of Jesse’s gunslingers cloak.

Brilliant red.  Soft hues that ordinary eyes can’t see.  Something just for him to keep.

Jesse holds up another glass needle, so willing for Genji to twist their fates together without reservation.

“Your turn?”

Genji takes the needle.

“My turn.”

 

* * *

 

> **Ghost Fragment: Modified Glass Needle 2**

 

// RECOVERED DATA

[u.1:01] …You have no idea how to sew, do you.  
[u.2:01] Hm.  Maybe if you guide my hands through the motions.  
[u.1:02] And they say you Titans aren’t clever.


	8. Bounty Sniping

Genji is, without a doubt, just as handy with a sniper rifle as he is with any other gun.  From their shared ledge, McCree sneaks a sidelong glance, lifting his head from his own scope to see Genji switching positions again.  His movements are discreet, little changes in his posture that shouldn’t draw attention, but Genji eventually sits back and crawls precisely one meter to McCree’s left before repositioning himself into a low crouch.   

McCree checks back a laugh.  He doesn’t doubt Genji’s skill with a rifle—but it’s clear as day the exo is completely too restless for sniping.

He hears Genji’s soft _‘aha’_ , three sharp cracks echoing off the Cosmodrome’s rocky mountains, and McCree peers through his own scope to see a Fallen scout dead in the middle of the road—a captain by the looks of it.  He picks off the two shanks for thoroughness’ sake.  

“Don’t mean t’be overbearing but,” McCree begins, reloading.  His hand bumps against some odd protruding thing.  Awkward.  He doesn’t much like this new prototype, and he makes a mental note to tell Banshee about it.  “If you just sit tight for a headshot, you’ll conserve ammo.”

Genji scoffs, getting up to move again.  The butt of his rifle bumps against McCree’s helmet, mostly fond. “I don’t appreciate you backseat sniping.”

“Backseat?”

“That’s… an old expression, I believe. Hm. I don’t know where I heard it from.” Genji settles down, this time to McCree’s right side, nearly shoulder to shoulder.  He leans close, long cloak brushing over McCree’s, and holds out his hand, palm up.  “In any case, I need more ammo.”

He looks expectantly at McCree.  McCree makes a prolonged noise of faint exasperation before relenting.

“Headshots, you know,” he says, signaling for his ghost to transfer another telemetry into Genji’s inventory.  “They work.”  

“They bore me.”

Together, they shoot down a couple more vandals and dregs.  Their ghosts collect the data from each kill, along with the short verbal recordings for Banshee’s benefit.  The new sniper rifles aren’t anything special, but they’ll do for the newer guardians that seem to be popping up with more frequency in the tower.  McCree pulls away from his scope, sweeping the canyon and airship graveyard, taking a moment to take in the sights.

It’s a pretty day; clear blue sky, bright sun, green trees.  His ghost reports a light breeze and a cool temperature—as well as the oxygen density, which McCree takes as a hint to be self-indulgent for once.  He sends a silent communication of amusement to his ghost, it’s light twinkling in response.

Meanwhile, Genji fires another three-shot round into some unfortunate target.  McCree swivels around to take a glance. Another dead captain, it’s ornaments showing a low enough rank that Genji could have done without the last two shots.

“Why,” he says, plaintive.  He’ll be running low on telemetries at this rate. And glimmer.

“One shot for the shields, another to stagger, and one in the chest to finish them off,” Genji explains, not bothering to look up from his scope.  

“You play with your food too much.”

“Say what you want.  I’m ahead by three kills.”

“And you owe me three telemetries for sniper ammo,” McCree says, despairing, but his tone is only a distraction as he picks off three more vandals and a dreg. He lets out a low whistle, a clear note of sarcastic awe. “Well wouldya look at that. Now I’m ahead.  It only took me, what? Four shots and a wink.”

Genji’s helmet turns to him.  McCree shrugs.  They only need a few more kills before there’s enough data collected between the two of them.  Now it’s only a matter of who will be the one to finish the bounty first.   

Genji stands up.  He hops over to a ledge that’s only slightly higher than the one McCree is laying on.  Snorting, McCree rolls over on his back, rough gravel crunching when he shifts, and watches as Genji sets up his new vantage point, which is not much different from their shared previous one.  McCree is pretty sure they’ve cleared out most of the stray Fallen scouts for now.  It will be a while for the next patrol to come by, wondering where their scouts are.  Genji likely knows this as well, but he is hunched over his sniper rifle, intent on winning the challenge.

McCree’s ghost hovers above him, triangular parts spinning.  It lets out puff of static, the glitter of light falling over him.  He catches Genji’s ghost doing the same thing, though he hasn’t a clue what it means to them, specifically.  

The white static settles over Genji’s shoulders.  From his angle, McCree thinks it might be the prettiest thing he’s seen in awhile—a sky blue backdrop, the rusted old metal plane beneath Genji’s feet a sharp contrast, the long line of his sniper rifle running parallel against the slope of some snow-capped mountain in the distance.  No other planet is quite as beautiful as Earth, and maybe it’s only some kind of biological bias McCree has, despite his lifetimes on Mars.

McCree stares for another fleeting second, stealing away one last glance, and puts his gloved hand beneath his helmet.  His ghost chirps happily and helps him pull it off, storing it away for later.  The cold air hits his face but he breathes, filling his lungs with the smell of pine and underlying rust from the decaying airships around them.  This isn’t something he wouldn’t have been able to do on Mars, or the Moon, or Venus—nowhere else but here. It’s a novelty he hasn’t quite gotten over yet.

His ghost hovers near his ear, and McCree delights in the way it wants to whisper, now that he doesn’t have their private comms; _“See? Isn’t this nice?”_

McCree gives it a fond pat before sitting up.  He glances at Genji, one more tempt to be self-indulgent, and jumps onto the broken down plane, metal rattling as he lands.  The wind snags at his hair, makes his cloak block Genji’s line of sight with a flash of red.

Genji looks up at him, head moving as if he says something inside his helmet, but McCree taps his ear, no voicelink to show for.  He bends down, hand bracing over Genji’s shoulder, and presses his lips over Genji’s visor—lets out a comical little _mwah_ , just because.

Genji stares at him, completely still for a total of three seconds.  He shifts soon after, hands changing the grip over his sniper rifle.  His voice fizzes as he allows the audio to sound through his helmet.

“Hah! If you think a _kiss_ will distract me—” Genji starts to say, looking through his scope.  He pauses.

McCree cackles, plopping himself down next to Genji.  He admires his work, tiny mouth-shaped smudge imprinted over Genji’s helmet, just over where his right optic would be.

“ _Skin grease_ ,” Genji says, his voice just two decibels shy of a shriek.

“As well as saliva,” his ghost adds helpfully.

“You _slobbered_ over my visor!”

Genji goes on for some time about the gross habits of organic beings, and McCree takes the last bounty kill, as well as Genji’s vengeful pouncing thereafter.

“Unforgivable,” Genji declares, his helmet disappearing in a cloud of static. His green optics are bright round circles, flashing with something that isn’t quite as angry as he makes it out to be.

“Told ya,” McCree says, laughing.  He points to Genji’s forehead, “Headshots work.”

Genji huffs, odd little noise from vocal emitter he’s learned to replicate.  He leans close, hard metal pressing against McCree’s forehead.  “Do they?  Perhaps I’m not convinced.”

McCree laughs, bright, and lets Genji box him in to try again.


	9. take you out

The match begins without much fanfare at Firebase Delphi, rocky ground kicking up dust as both fireteams land on their feet in unison.  Less than a minute later, Genji takes first blood with even less flair, leaving the unfortunate enemy warlock to spawn elsewhere.  He leaves the rest of his team behind at Zone A—per his usual strategy when it comes to Zone Control, but he finds himself hurrying faster than normal, just the tiniest bit impatient to rush ahead to middle ground. **  
**

He had taken a quick glance at the teams’ rosters beforehand, so it comes as no huge surprise to him when he runs into McCree at Zone B.

“Fancy meeting you here,” McCree says, tipping an imaginary hat as his gunslinger’s cloak flutters behind him.  The circle of light around them blinks, HUDs showing that Fireteams Alpha and Bravo are both _supposedly_ contesting for Zone B.

Thankfully there isn’t anyone yet to witness the two of them standing around.  Genji can practically hear Shaxx grinding his teeth in frustration.

 _I should just shoot him_ , Genji thinks wryly—but he’s got a sharp knife and a good sense of humor this round, so there’s no use wasting either of them.  He draws out his blade and lunges at McCree.

“A shame Shaxx decided to keep us apart,” Genji says, voice brightening when the barrel of McCree’s pistol connects with his knife to block it.  The metal clash shocks his hand but doesn’t slacken his grip.  A small shift to change the angle of the blade would have freed them both, but Genji only pushes forward, goading on a deadlock between their weapons.

And McCree doesn’t give an inch so much as lean closer to him in return.  Genji’s knife comes dangerously close to his neck, sharp point almost nicking at the lower edge of his helmet.

“Oh, us being on the same team would’ve been unfair,” McCree says, unbothered by the possibility of getting his throat sliced.  The gun in his hand shakes a moment from the strain. “But hey, after this match, how ‘bout I take you somewhere nice?”

Genji’s answer is immediate.  “No.  I’m on a Vanguard streak. I have Crucible bounties.”

“I’ll show you around Mars,” McCree adds, as if to sweeten the deal.  He pushes back with his gun, index finger sliding to the trigger.

“I’ve seen Mars,” Genji replies.  If he had eyebrows, he would have raised one of them.  “We are _on_ Mars right now.”

“The parts that aren’t the Crucible. _And_ without Cabal.”

Genji tilts his head to the side, considering.  The sand dunes had made for some interesting sparrow jumps at times, but that’s the only good thing about Mars Genji could say from the top of his head. In his opinion, one orange desert landscape is as good as any other.

“If you win this match,” Genji says, after a moment.  A Vanguard streak isn’t something he’s willing to forfeit so easily, after all.  “If you win, I’ll go.”

He can hear the grin in McCree’s voice, picking up the implication fast.

“And if I lose?” McCree asks in a low murmur, like he cannot wait to hear the answer.

“We’ll have a date on Venus instead.”

McCree pauses, voicelink cutting off for a quick second.  When he replies, there is an impressive amount of forced enthusiasm in his tone; “Oh, that ain’t no real punishment. So long as it’s a date with you, sugar.”

It’s _almost_ charming, if not completely sincere. Genji laughs, unable to help himself.  “Have you checked the weather there? It’s storming. Acid rain on both hemispheres.”

McCree seems to mull over his own response before drawing out his own knife to take a swipe at Genji.  The feint is enough to make Genji hop back, but not before McCree’s pistol fires deep into his shoulder—and Genji suspects that vicious move may have been partially motivated by reasons less than charming.  

“Aw, hell,” McCree says, over the sound of his gun reloading, “I better not lose then, huh?”

Genji’s armor blinks a critical red.  McCree is a second away from finishing his reload and Genji’s no longer within knife range to do any damage.  There’s always his pulse rifle, but Genji opts for the pettier route and simply throws down his grenade between them.

And apparently he isn’t the only one to have the same idea.  Three more grenades join his in Zone B and Genji has enough time to feel exasperated— _there’s_ half his fireteam, along with McCree’s as well.

“About time they showed up,” McCree says, echoing Genji’s thoughts.

Genji would have spoken, but the nature of demolitions takes its course and he supposes he’ll have to wait until after revival to reply.

 

* * *

 

Genji doesn’t run into McCree again for a few cycles.  If he hadn’t known any better, he would have suspected McCree was avoiding him, but a quick peek at the scoreboards show McCree is busy in his own right, either capturing zones or killing the other members of Genji’s team.

Meanwhile, Genji is collecting a fair amount of medals—a continuous stream of the usual icons appearing in the corner of his vision.  He runs around the corner, shooting down an enemy titan along the way before his radar shows a ping of red to his right side.  Without a second thought, he switches directions to hunt down his next target.

“You know we _are_ playing Zone Control, right?” Ryuu says after a moment of running.

“Zones won’t matter if I have enough kills,” Genji says, checking the scoreboard again with a flicker from his HUD.  Alpha team is ahead by a few hundred of points with him as the top scorer. It’s nothing out of the ordinary, but his Ghost apparently senses something amiss.

“I advise against this strategy,” Ryuu says, as blunt as he is helpful.  

“You’ve never advised against it before,” Genji notes, and skitters to a stop when he spies a familiar red cloak and hand cannon pointed his way.

Ryuu falls silent, and Genji would never accuse his own Ghost of conspiring against him, but it seems like a near thing at this point.  

McCree’s first shot misses him, though Genji has no doubt the bullet would have landed if he hadn’t Blinked away.  The second shot does hit, a shock of pain driving Genji to move faster rather than stagger.  McCree’s trigger finger is quick, but it doesn’t make up for his slower movements.  Genji’s footwork to move around him is automatic, pathway almost a calculated circle.  He drives his knife into McCree’s back, invisibility device activating as the blade bites deep.

Genji backs up, footsteps light and soft to conceal his presence.  He has half a mind to taunt, but to his surprise, McCree takes off in a hasty retreat, bounding off through the plasteel doors.

Genji’s cloaking device fizzes out, leaving him in an empty room as the doors hiss close.  Less than half a minute later, Bravo Team captures Zone C.

“ _He_ gets it,” says Ryuu with a clear note of approval.

Genji shrugs.

“Don’t get angry just because he isn’t chasing after you for the entire match.”

Genji turns his head, expecting his Ghost to be hovering over his shoulder.  Upon finding the spot empty, he gives the air a swat anyway.

“No more advice from you,” he says.

 

* * *

 

Genji finds himself being approached by the enemy team in groups of two or three.  Normally, he wouldn’t have a problem with it—he would have gladly pitted himself against the entirety of Bravo Team by himself, but after his last three deaths under enemy fire, he finds it all a little bit _too_ deliberate for random happenstance.

He wouldn’t have called it being ambushed—there’s no way, not in Crucible—but his suspicion doubles when he corners McCree beneath a rocky outcrop over dusty orange sand.

“One would think you weren’t trying,” says Genji, risking an open voicelink. He’s gotten McCree’s armor down to nearly nothing.  One more shot and McCree will be reviving on the other side of the base.  Alpha Team is still leading by a good number of points.  

McCree’s voice patches into his audio sensors, breathless.  “You underestimate how badly I want a night out with ya.”

“Try harder then,” Genji says, taking the shot, and McCree’s Ghost springs from his body.

When he turns around, half of Bravo Team is waiting for him with weapons that look like a good combination of rocket launchers and machine guns.

“Oh,” says Genji.

 

* * *

 

The alarms haven’t stopped blaring into Genji’s helmet for what seems like too long.  He doesn’t know when it happens, but Bravo Team shifts from chaotic carnage to organized killing and capturing.  Genji thinks McCree may be barking orders to his own team, which is a strange concept.  He knows McCree has a certain unwillingness for leadership, though he has on occasion seen McCree pick up the role when needed.  He isn’t quite sure how McCree is doing it, but time and time again, Genji becomes outflanked by two or more enemy guardians.  

It’s maddening, but also a little flattering.  

“ _They’ve got them all, Guardian_ ,” Shaxx announces as Bravo Team’s score makes a leaping jump past Alpha’s.

Genji turns his head.  He isn’t surprised to see Ryuu floating over his shoulder this time, somehow looking as smug as a Ghost can be.  

“I think I see your point,” Genji admits.

Ryuu offers one last piece of advice; “Then get _on_ the point, Genji.”

 

* * *

 

They meet again at Zone B, though the rest of Firebase Delphi is now empty, awaiting the next match between a new set of teams.  McCree stands beneath the zone’s banner, Bravo’s emblem waving over him.

Genji’s Ghost has seen fit to respawn him near McCree.  He lands on his feet and slings an arm around McCree’s waist, drawing him in.

“Zone Control isn’t my favorite,” Genji says, tipping his head back to look up at him. “But a loss is a loss, I suppose.”

“You sure as hell didn’t make it easy for me,” McCree replies with a huff, but he sounds pleased.  “Guess I’ll have to beat you in some other Crucible game.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Genji says, a little ruffled, but the feeling passes itself quickly as McCree’s helmet tilts to tap against his.  He reaches over to pat the dust from McCree’s cloak, which is looking more orange than red. It’s a futile gesture.  He’s sure they’ll both be up in dust again soon enough, considering he’ll be staying on Mars for the time being.

They start walking off from Zone B, McCree taking the lead to hop over the rocky ridge surrounding the edge of base. Genji follows after him.

When they get to the top, Genji is treated to Mars’ familiar sandy landscape and burning overhead sun.  He dims his visual settings, seconds away from making a smart comment, something about the weather on Venus being preferable.

But McCree grabs his hand, his gaze looking at some point beyond the endless orange dunes.  His grip tightens, excitement somehow emitting through his unseen Light, bright solar energy matching Mars.  

“I could do without the ridiculous wagers next time,” Genji says, staring despite himself.  

“Deal,” McCree says, turning to him with a laugh.  “C’mon. I’ll show you around.”

And Mars is beginning to look nicer already.


End file.
